The No-Moping Zone

I frequently see rants posted online by aspiring writers, bemoaning the latest rejections they’ve received. You’ve probably seen this sort of thing: a furious Facebooker or a tormented Twitterer, telling the world “I’m taking the day off to mope,” or “I’m basically worthless for a day or two after I get one of these,” or “I need to give myself a day to whine and moan and eat unhealthy food and drink too much.”

The common theme I keep seeing is that in response to each rejection, the writer feels the need to stop everything and mope.

Let me put this out there right up front: I’m anti-moping. Not because I’m an unsympathetic poopyhead. And certainly not because I’m opposed to eating unhealthy food and drinking too much. But because I firmly believe there’s a better way to react, which I’ll explore in this post.

First, let’s think about the comments I cited, and do some math. If you get rejected 50 times – not at all an unlikely scenario – and you take one day to mope after each rejection, you’re essentially spending almost two months moping and pouting. And if you’re on the two-day moping plan, you’re taking more than three months off to wail and gnash your teeth – basically a summer vacation in Hell.

I submit that this is an unacceptable – and indefensible – waste of time, which gets you no closer to achieving your goals. Plus, all that teeth-gnashing is murder on your molars.

Seriously, we’re talking about entire months you could be spending writing, or salsa dancing, or solving world hunger. But when I suggest this to a moping rejectee, I am usually rebuked, and am told that they need that self-hosted pity party so they can recover and regroup; that they need to wallow for a while before getting back behind the keyboard; that to ignore this need would not be true to their sensitive artistic souls.

Sorry, but I’m not buying it. I firmly believe wallowing is a voluntary activity, not a need. And if you feel otherwise, I ask that you try questioning that “need,” by doing an experiment: try skipping that phase entirely the next time you get rejected, and see what happens. If that sounds too extreme, perhaps the following rule might help:

Lauren’s five-minute rule

The talented and extremely prolific author Lauren Baratz-Logsted gave a great keynote speech at this year’s Backspace Writers Conference in Manhattan last month, offering many positive and helpful insights. One that really hit home for me was her statement that she lived by the “Five-Minute Rule,” which meant that whatever happened to her in her publishing journey – whether it was bad or good – she would only give it five minutes of attention before she got back to what was really important to her: writing. (This could help explain how she’s already written twenty-something books, and probably completed another one in the time it took me to write this post.)

I’m mostly on board with my friend Lauren’s approach, although being a glass-half-full kind of guy, I’d probably be inclined to allocate an even larger segment of time to celebrating the positive milestones. After all, how much celebratory Scotch can you drink if you’re only allowed five minutes? But I strongly agree that five minutes is more than enough time to dwell on whatever literary hurdles and setbacks you encounter. After that, it’s time to move on, and get back to work.

That’s MISTER Poopyhead to you

I’ve made similar recommendations to writers over the years, and frankly the response has often been less than enthusiastic. It has been suggested that I am a big mean poopyhead, an unfeeling brute, and that I’m repressing emotions that need to be released. (And those were the nicely worded responses. Other less diplomatic suggestions would require me to perform several acts that I’m pretty sure are anatomically impossible.)

I really don’t think I’m being overly repressive. I’m an emotional and sensitive guy – trust me, I can be moved to tears with embarrassing ease. But I submit that we DO have some choice in the energy we devote to our emotions. For example, after reading CNN.com for five minutes, I could easily choose to be sad all day – hell, all year. Face it: there’s no shortage of things to be sad about.

But I choose not to.

Not because of my overarching belief in humanity’s ability to rise above, or some other highfalutin idealism. But because it’s simply a waste of my life to spend too much time voluntarily being sad, so instead I choose to spend my time doing other stuff. And you can do the same, by simply checking that agent off your list, and moving on.

I’m not alone in thinking this. A.S. King, another extremely creative and prolific author I’m fortunate enough to be buddies with, agrees that we have a choice in how we react to rejection. She also pointed out the harsh reality that those rejections never stop – not even after you get an agent, or even after you get a publisher. She summed it up like this:

The only control you have over rejection is how you approach it.”

Don’t get me wrong. Not for an instant am I saying you should never be sad or disappointed. I’m just suggesting – along with other authors I respect – that we have some control over how much time and energy we choose to focus on that sadness or disappointment. And I believe we have more control than most of us probably give ourselves credit for.

I think another key is to not get so emotionally invested in the query process. After all, you’re looking for a business partner, not a prom date. So I suggest that you put your emotion into your writing, and put your brain into your querying. When you stop taking it so personally, it really does get easier.

Try it. You’ll like it.

Indulge me, please. Next time you get a rejection, take a look at it, process what its impact is, see if there are any editorial insights to be gleaned, and then do something else. Immediately. Or at least after no more than five minutes.

Reality check: It’s probably not going to work the first time you try it. Why? Because it’s a new and foreign behavior. Like putting on rollerblades for the first time, or trying to get a decent sounding note out of a trumpet. It takes practice before this will begin to feel natural. But hey, that’s one upside of this business: it will give you PLENTY of practice in handling rejection.

My first few rejections stung like crazy, believe me. But I quickly realized that it wouldn’t be practical to let every single one slow me down or ruin my day – life’s just too short. And since I made the adjustment, implementing my own instinctive version of Lauren’s five-minute plan, I have to say: I’ve been a much happier writer. I hope this is helpful.

How about you? Have you tried this or something like it? Are you willing to? Or have you found some other approach? I welcome your input (even if you just want to call me a poopyhead).

Author of the novels ME AGAIN, published by Five Star/Gale; and TONY PARTLY CLOUDY (published under his pen name Nick Rollins), Keith Cronin is a corporate speechwriter and professional rock drummer who has performed and recorded with artists including Bruce Springsteen, Clarence Clemons, and Pat Travers. Keith's fiction has appeared in Carve Magazine, Amarillo Bay, The Scruffy Dog Review, Zinos, and a University of Phoenix management course. A native of South Florida, Keith spends his free time serenading local ducks and squirrels with his ukulele.

Comments

Love this! When you enumerate the number of days spent moping that could be spent on anything else, like working on the craft you’re trying to sell, it really does seem like a waste. I wonder whether this is a sign of the difference between a hobbyist and a professional: a hobbyist can wallow in self-pity but a professional gives it a moment of disappointment and moves on.

Giving only a moment of disappointment is tougher, I’ve found, being rejected for a project I *really* believe in, though. I’ve weathered dozens of rejections for other projects I thought were good, but my recent rejections are harder. So I really needed to hear this. Thanks, Keith!

Taking a walk after experiencing a publishing setback works well for me. I process whatever’s bothering me with long strides, poke holes in the illogic of taking anything to heart, and burn off some stress at the same time. And, hey, I also burn calories, which means more free calories for chocolate later in the day. Win! Thanks for a great post.

If I moped for every rejection I have received, I would be moping for half a year on one novel alone. You can feel sad about a rejection, but for your own sake, you have to keep moving forward. When I receive one, I try to take the feedback I have received and make the novel better. I was rejected by the same agent twice. He read the manuscript and said he liked it, but didn’t love it. That was my cue to either revamp the manuscript or move on to a different manuscript. (I have chosen to revamp the manuscript at a later point. I have a new WIP now.)

Keith,
I think each individual has a different way of dealing with rejection. I’ve allowed myself to wallow in self-pity after receiving a rejection. The key, as you point out, is to bounce back quickly. If you allow the pity party to last more than a day, you are only hurting yourself. Sit in the chair and write. It will make you feel better. Thanks, Keith!

Thanks, CG, but my point is to *question* that way we have of dealing with rejection. We often make the assumption that because we have done something a certain way a few times, we HAVE to always do it that way, and we tell ourselves “that’s just our way.” I’m suggesting there may be other ways. So in your case, I’d suggest to try NOT wallowing a couple of times, and see how it feels. You may be surprised.

Bottom line, I believe WE control how we react, not the other way around. And I found that out by trying out a behavior that was initially new and seemingly “unnatural” to me. Lo and behold, it worked! Maybe something similar might work for you.

Regardless, thanks for reading and chiming in (and for not calling me a poopyhead)!

Yes! Running helps to get out any negative feelings. I’m not one to mope around, but every now and then, a chocolate milkshake can do wonders. And then, like you said, back to writing. Thanks for the post.

I need to remember this life lesson that’s about more than ms. rejections. Make the most of every moment you have. Save the sadness for letting others know you care. Like you say, it’s a choice. The timing of this post couldn’t have been more perfect for me. Thanks!

Wonderful advice, Keith! My first few rejections hit me hard, and I now know it was because I was so new at it. Later I learned to not take it personally, and I only allow myself a brief time to be sad, hurt, angry, whatever. In fact, I just wrote about this on my blog on May 17th. I titled it: “A Rejection: Ouch! But I’m Okay!” And here’s a few words from it:

“I’ve had my writing rejected before, several times, but that happens to ALL writers, and I always say it’s like that slogan for the state lottery: “You can’t win, if you don’t play.

What a great, great post, Keith! And not just in terms of writing. There are so many factors in life that are beyond our control, so many times when it’s important to remember that what we CAN control is our emotional response. I try to look at it this way: do I want to be the wimpy girl who was dragged down by a little adversity? Or do I want to be the strong one who said to herself: One day I am going to look back on this roadblock and think to myself, I beat that, too.

Keith, obviously I think this is a brilliant post. Outside of my self-absorbed reasons for thinking this, there’s a lot of wisdom here. I particularly like what you say about trying out a new behavior for a short period of time to see what happens.

I would like to clarify something about The Five-Minute Rule. It’s not that I don’t properly celebrate successes or disappointments – I do both, and there’s almost always wine involved! Rather, I reschedule so I don’t interfere with my own progress, and this goes back to something else I said at the conference about setting goals for each day. If I’ve set a goal of getting X number of pages done that day and a good review comes in or something disappointing – and believe me, the more books you have published, the more chance there is that there will be something disappointing every day! – The Five-Minute Rule kicks in; but then at night, after the day’s goal has been met, I’m free to celebrate or whine as needed, so long as I don’t let it wash over into the next day, getting in the way of *that* day’s goal.

Think about it like this. If you had a more conventional job, one requiring you to work outside the home, if the boss paid you a compliment at 10 a.m., would you knock off work to celebrate, declaring your work for the day done? Similarly, if the boss criticized you at 10 a.m., would you walk out and head for the bar? No. Unless you were planning to resign, you’d finish the day out and then hit the bar afterward.

So that’s what The Five-Minute Rule is about. It’s not about repressing emotion; it’s about rescheduling your emotional needs so you don’t get in the way of your own progress as a professional.

Some days I feel mopey – and whiny – and crappy. But it is more a personality mood thing than a writer thing, I think. So I ask myself if I need some down time to let myself sort out those crappy-arse feelings and if there’s anything I can do about it – it’s not as passive.

Sometimes new insights come from examining the mopes, but yeah, I grow quickly impatient if I’m whiney.

But, mostly, the cure for my whines and mopey-nessessess is always the writing.

Ha! I’m laughing because I am looking down at the title of my monday’s blog post – no whining allowed! :-D

Very funny article, Mr. Poopyhead. You’re right…what a waste of time to spend upwards of 50 days a year moping over some stranger’s rejection.

I once went to a writer’s retreat in southern England where a visiting poet of some renown told us quite seriously that he took to his bed for days after getting rejections. I was–to use the British term–gobsmacked. Had coming from the U.S. Midwest given me a stronger constitution? Or (more likely) less ability to take myself that seriously? I have seen this man’s byline in big, important places since then, so at least he did not end up offing himself.

“Nice” rejections don’t bother me as much as they used to. It’s the ones that are wrongheaded that still bug the cr*p out of me. I consider that a quite normal response; the key is to snap out of it asap. Having a lot on your plate besides a writing career helps–family, dogs, volunteer work, exercise, and (god forbid) a paying job. You can get whiplash from all the ego massages and attacks on your ego with a blunt instrument. You have to learn not to take yourself TOO seriously (or is that my Midwestern bias talking?!).

In the old days, when rejection slips appeared in the mailbox and the mail came at the same time every day, I’d walk out armed with my mantra: “A rejection slip is waiting for me…:” Repeat. Repeat.

Taking mail out, seeing thin SASE: “This is a rejection slip. This is a rejection slip.”

Inside, opening envelope. “Wow! Look at that. I was right!”

Helped a lot.

Getting lots of rejections from great magazines ultimately sent me in a different direction, and a more rewarding one. I have an epublisher that (so far) has published every story I’ve sent. People actually read my stuff. (I even get royalties!)

I think good writing – and good coping – happen when we are outside our comfort zone and not able to indulge in our habitual behavior. This is what allows us to keep going, keep exploring and keep creating work that is new and evolving.

A very useful post for me at this moment as I am out on book tour which is an absolute roller coaster. Learn to deal with the rejection, the disappointments now, because, frankly, that’s life, and they will keep on coming, no matter where you are on your career path.

I must admit, at first, I might have been a Mr. Poopyhead thinker, lol but the more I read, the more I grinned. The more I saw the wisdom in what you have written here.

I must admit my thoughts–might not be fair–as I’ve just received a stinging rejection myself–yesterday–one where not one, but several stood behind their thoughts, and not only them, but everyone that read my story–felt they had a right to give their–unwanted opinion. So this multi-rejection really made me angry–truth be known.

Not long into your post–I realized I too–as a disgruntled writer–was wasting valuable time. Time I could be proving to myself–all over again–why I love writing. The process, being true to myself and my imagination, and that I should ignore editors–that I will not let them ruin my dream of writing–even those that can be cruel and go beyond critiqing.

You’ve also made me realize–so what?–why am I letting one stupid comment get to me? Why would I let one editors comments, well several there–get to me? Will I really let this make me think I need to do something different?

No! I love writing. It’s in my blood. I think about it to distraction. Maybe to the point that I’d rather write–sometimes–more that being outdoors, making plans with my friends, and definitely more than cleaning the house or doing errands.

So, I thank you very much Keith! Your wisdom has made me see things in a whole new way. A way that will make me stronger– as a writer. A way that will ensure I utilize my valuable time better. I definitely see the wisdom in the five minute rule. :-)

Absolutely perfect post! You hit on every point that I have come to realize.

The moment I started submitting short stories, I had to teach myself how to deal with rejections. After I’d gotten several, I became sort of numb to it. Then, when I got a story accepted somewhere, it all got put in perspective.

It really isn’t a rejection of me, myself. There are tons of reasons why our stories are rejected, and it can truly be because it just isn’t at the right place at the right time. By focusing on writing the next story made the rejection less important, and the future more optimistic. When I was done with it, I’d have another story to get out there, which increases the chances of finding the right place at the right time for my writing.

Really enjoyed this article. The thing I found to resolve the whole rejection-depression cycle was to just start on a new novel. That way, the previous novel, while remaining important to me, isn’t the end-all and be-all.

great post. i’m actively going through the submission/rejection cycle right now and my best friend suggested that i start taking a holly hunter moment from broadcast news to weep for one scheduled minute then move on. i cracked up not only because that is one of my all time favorite movies, but because that was so him to say that and it was just what i needed to hear. stop taking the rejections so personally. i’ve learned to take critiques well from my peers and that didn’t happen overnight; this is just the next step in the writing process. i will collect a certain number of rejections before i find the right match. each rejection means i’m one step closer.

Don, I agree that rejections contain information. Unfortunately they also sometimes contain red herrings, thanks to the lengths some agencies go to in crafting their gently worded form letters.

I’ve seen countless writers building their hopes up and obsessing over every morsel of generic praise contained in some of these rejections, oblivious to the fact that they’re reading a form letter. So the first thing I do is Google some key phrase from the letter, to see whether it actually contains any commentary directed specifically at my manuscript.

But at a higher level, there’s always information inherent in getting a “no.” Getting too many of them – even with no clarifying commentary – tells you something in your manuscript (or query, depending on what’s being evaluated) ain’t working.

It’s true that rejection letters can seem coded. What does it mean when they say…

“I didn’t love this as much as I wanted to.”

“It would be hard to position on our list.”

“This would be a tough sell in this market.”

You could drive yourself nuts trying to figure out the meanings. What such comments mean, though, is that whatever you’re doing in your manuscript isn’t working strongly enough to blow away all objections.

Hi Keith,
Love the post/advice/coping mechanism. I find that if I make an effort to pull another writer out of the dumps post rejection, I have an easier time coping with my own rejection. Because I got eat my own dog food right?
Anyway, if you could write a post about decoding form letters…that would be awesome.

Same! Granted I’ve only submitted one short story, and that was on a lark, more of a “let’s see how this random story does” because for the past few years I’ve very much been in work-on-your-craft rather than submit-submit-submit mode. But when I did it–and it was a personalized, detailed, wonderful rejection–I was happy! I’d gotten that milestone out of the way without any soul-crushing devastation.

The only cure for rejection is success, and self-pity won’t get you there any faster. Where I come from, if you stop moving ahead just to feel sorry for yourself, you stand out like the weak one in the herd… not good. Sure I laugh, I cry… then I do a few dishes.

This is excellent advice that could not only be applied to rejections from agents/ publishers, but a lot of negative emotions, actually. What’s the point in wasting time being angry, sad, disappointed etc. when you could be out there, living life, and striving towards something? If you let one rejection get you down you may easily spend your life wallowing and never get anything published. Give yourself a few minutes to recover, dust yourself off, and then get back on that horse! This is a mantra I’m going to try to live by.

Oh, goodness. A full day to mope after every rejection? That’s too much, and is going to prevent the moper from getting anything done, including turning those rejections into requests.

I’m all for taking a day to recover if things get too overwhelming, but we have to learn to roll with the punches most of the time. Bad things are going to happen that want to keep us from writing. We can’t let every one of them stop us, or we’re giving up on ourselves, and that’s the ultimate rejection.

Absolutely love this post, Keith. The concept of retaining control by actively choosing how we will respond to rejection is true. Not just of rejections or disappointments in our writing journey, but in life in general.

Following this principle of retaining control of my response to negative life occurrences has made a measurable difference in my level of contentment and peace of mind. I highly recommend it.

Best of all, this enables me to keep a clear mind so I can learn the lessons that such occasions afford and apply them going forward.

“But hey, that’s one upside of this business: it will give you PLENTY of practice in handling rejection…” Damn, you are a glass half-full guy! Pass the scotch…

And, I agree with you about the moping bit–I try and handle rejection as a learning process. If I have nothing to learn from the rejection, I move on, and drink a glass of wine. If the rejection has some validity–I zero in on that, pour myself a glass of wine, and mull it over.

I always mean to wallow in my sorrow, but somehow get distracted with all the other things that need to be done… Not necessarily writing, unfortunately! Such sensible advice, I love it, especially when you point out just how much time can is wasted. But I am not surprised that you are not having an enthusiastic reception (the ones who did not comment are probably all crying their hearts out…).

Thanks for such a great post. I still haven’t managed to get things together for submission yet, but I’m working hard. Maybe I’m just weird, but I want to celebrate the rejection process, because to me, it’s just one more step to get me closer to my goals of getting published. Each letter will be a badge of honor for stepping out and finally doing what I want to do and that’s a wonderful thing. Rejection is part of the process. Every single published author has been rejected a bunch of times, so why should I weep and moan about being where my heroes have gone before? I want to be able to frame my 100th and 500th and 1,000th rejection letters on the wall, because it means that I’ve been shopping my work out there. Moping around just means you haven’t been looking closely enough in those closing doors for the opening windows of opportunity. Who needs a pity party when you’re on the road to success if you just follow the signs? ^_~

Wow, Tristi, what a great attitude! Here’s hoping you don’t actually hit the 1,000-rejection point – if nothing else, because it would take a *really* big house to have enough wall space to hang them. :)

Hmm interesting. It’s a valiant thought, but I like to think I care alot about what I’m doing. Having someone reject it, then, takes a bit more than a frowny face and a five-minute mope. I have to cycle through the shock, anger, sadness and determination to get past it. It’s this hard-earned determination that fuels me to move on and get back to my writing. Speeding up the process won’t help – it’s like telling someone to greive faster. So, while you’re not a poopyhead in the least and I actually think you’re on the right track, I will agree to disagree.

This is great advice! I like the five minute rule. It seems like it would really help someone keep thing in prospective. After all, even if you get that literary agent (which is awesome, of course) you might not sell your book.

I like to listen to one of my favorite songs to help me bounce back. Or go for a run, physical activity helps me vent.

Simply put, I love this post. Like you, I let myself collapse into sorrow for the first few rejections. Then two things happened. I got tired of myself, and I realized I just don’t have time for that type of self-indulgence. I’m too busy to be sad.

I do post rejections, but I don’t mope after each one. Well, having a kid is great defense against moping. My son just doesn’t sit by so I can have moping time. He’s more the mom-what-are-we-doing-today type.

But I totally agree with what you’re saying. I feel the mope, but I do something else.

When I post rejections, by the way, I don’t say anything about moping or being awful or hopeless or whatever. I just post the rejection. I get many sympathetic comments, and I feel better. And I write more.

I do post rejections, but I don’t mope after each one. Well, having a kid is great defense against moping. My son just doesn’t sit by so I can have moping time. He’s more the mom-what-are-we-doing-today type.

But I totally agree with what you’re saying. I feel the mope, but I do something else.

When I post rejections, by the way, I don’t say anything about moping or being awful or hopeless or whatever. I just post the rejection. I get many sympathetic comments, and I feel better. And I write more.

This is so pertinent to me right now — as I’m querying. And after a few rejections and wallows, I came to the conclusion that not only can I not wallow in rejection, but I try to take it one step further. When I get a rejection in email, I move it immediately to my rejection folder, then I try to view it (as Michael Jordan said) like another log on the fire and go back to my current WIP with renewed energy. Of course this approach doesn’t always work, but I’m still a work in progress myself.

I like that 5 minute rule. It reminds my of my sister’s old rule about break ups, that you could only be sad one day for every month you had dated the jerk who broke up with you. Few people I knew really took even that long to be sad about it, though they might have thought on day one they’d be sad forever.

Here’s my own rule about celebrations and moping alike. If you’re really sad or really happy and you need a cookie, have one. If you need two cookies… you don’t need two cookies.

I’m one of those who think some people who are not glass-half-full kind of people need to honor their own feelings and reactions and rhythms however they see fit. Having said that, I got a heartbreaking rejection early on and shook it off the next day. Literally. I went to a dance class the following morning and was somehow able to let it go. It wasn’t my intent, and I would have thought I’d have moped for days, but the music and movement got me out of my funk. I don’t remember that experience enough. I need to do more of it and less of the moping. I plan to be going on submission in a few months, I REALLY need to remember this!

So far, I prefer targeting my submissions, rather than a shot-gun approach. It’s work to read the material in prospective pubs. It’s work to see which ones might actually use the kind of material I create. It’s work to see which ones publish things I would want to read.

So I’ve only submitted 9 since Jan. 2011, and I’ve one acceptance.

Those who said “no thanks”? I prefer to think my work has been “declined.” It’s much easier a word to deal with than “rejection.”

If what I’ve written is the best I can do at the moment, I look at it later, rewrite if that honestly makes sense. If it doesn’t. . . maybe I’ve submitted to an inappropriate pub? Sometimes this process takes longer than five minutes, but it’s a lovely rule to strive for.

[…] there are those who take rejection as an excuse to mope. Keith Cronin is prepared to institute a No-Moping Zone for the good of all writers, offering up some alternative reactions to rejection that may better-serve an aspiring writer in […]